Yvonne
by Avalon0823
Summary: Hi, my alias is Avalon, and this is my first story I'm publishing. Please don't judge too harshly on it, since I know I'm just a 6th grader and I'm not as experienced as many other fantastic authors on this website. I hope you would enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.


**YVONNE**

NARRATOR NARRATING

Claudia was just sitting on her desk, bored; wondering about what troubles life would bring her today. She organized her pencil case by putting led into all her precious mechanical pencils, and by sharpening her blunt and dirty pencils. All this was tedious, boring work. She wanted some fun in her life. It would only be minutes until her teacher walks into the classroom, clapping her hands, saying, "Class, I have something really cool planned for you." _Yeah, right_. Maybe copying down vocabulary words from the whiteboard was something really cool, in Ms. Jefferson's idea.

After a few minutes, just as Claudia predicted, Ms. Jefferson walked into the classroom with her sharp nose of hers stuck high into the air. Same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before the day before, she clapped her hands and said, "Class, I have something really cool planned for you." Claudia sighed. How predictable could her everyday life be? But something Ms. Jefferson said next perked her up. A lot.

"But before we proceed on, I have someone new to introduce to you. A new student from Wisconsin will join us for this year. I hope you let her feel welcome since she is not used to this school environment just yet." Ms. Jefferson spoke. The boys were obviously disappointed, taking the opportunity to sigh and pout and yell out, "It's a _girl_? Like seriously? Why don't we get any _boys_ around here?" But Claudia could tell that the girls were excited, just like her. Claudia needed a friend, desperately. So urgently, urgent as the seas. No one liked her in this school. Maybe the new girl may like her.

A petite girl walked into the classroom, timidly. She was walking somewhat unsteadily like a blind man feeling his way. "This is Yvonne. She suffers from a slight walking disability." The girl was waving real friendly, but everyone turned away as if she was contagious. The girl's face, as pale as wax, was shining indirectly in the fluorescent lights of the classroom. Claudia was the only person regarding her. Claudia felt a trembling in her, in her heart, trembling like an aspen-leaf. Her heart leaped and skipped a beat. Would Yvonne be her friend? A true friend, who wasn't fake and phony like those who she have met and parted with?

CLAUDIA NARRATING

She took the seat next to me. At the beginning of the year, I thought that I would have to sit forever alone. Turned out I didn't have to. Yvonne staggered and collapsed into the chair. Vague thoughts seemed to stream shapelessly through her mind like long sad vapors through the twilight sky. She seemed so lonely, somehow. She was lonely, kind of. Or was she? She was unmoving like a tombstone. Would she be like this for the whole year? She was unknown, like a seed in fallow ground. She was unheralded, like some tornado loosed out of the brooding hills, it came to pass. But somehow the presence of her, Yvonne, was uplifting my soul as on dovelike wings. It felt like the world had started fresh anew. All for me.

Then Ms. Jefferson, breaking through all my thoughts and feelings, started the lesson. "Please take out your homework on the times tables," she said. I took it out. She gave everyone a check for doing it. She gave one for me, too, but with a frown. Well, she couldn't blame me. It wasn't my fault that three times four was eighteen and nine times five was twenty-four. It seemed right for me.

_Crunch_. Suddenly, there was an unexpected crunching sound. The sound came from my corner of the classroom, and everyone looked at me. _Who, me_? But I couldn't help but enjoy this new feeling. The mysterious new feelings of having something unexpected happen. Desperately trying to find the source of the _crunch_, I looked high and low, left to right. First, I saw Ms. Jefferson's frown. Next, I saw Yvonne. She had bit into a chocolate chip cookie. Stony-faced, Ms. Jefferson told Yvonne, "In this class I do not permit eating chocolate chip cookies during the lesson." Yvonne put her half-bitten cookie in its plastic bag casually, and continued on. She continued on with life. I couldn't believe it. If it was me, I would have wanted to vanish like vapor before the Sun. Once again, curious vibrations set quivering like harp strings struck by the hand of a master all around the classroom. The new kid was somewhat cool, when you set aside the fact that she was slightly disabled.

When the bell rang, she staggered out of the seat to introduce herself to everyone. I didn't know how many times she had said, "Hi, my name is Yvonne Wilson and I love food," to everyone in this class. The boys started to take in interest in her. The girls were enchanted. I was jealous. Unutterable things were pressing on my soul like a pent-up storm craving for something, something I didn't know. I wanted her to be _my_ friend. I didn't want her to be liked by anyone else. But she was liked. She was charming. That was just that way she was, originally. Brittany, the mean girl in the class, spread rumors about Yvonne during recess. I was grateful for Brittany for the first time in my life, though I did not know why. But Yvonne's self-esteem was unbreakable as iron, even under Brittany. She made new friends quick. Before the next period, she was talking comfortably with me, Cynthia, and Emily. She was outgoing, so outgoing that I thought she was from another unknown race, another unfamiliar country, or another unexplored galaxy.

Creative writing class was a disaster. Yvonne changed everything for us. Ms. Jefferson was blown away. Another _crunch_ was heard. It didn't take long to figure out where that _crunch_ came from. Yvonne was eating another cookie. "Didn't I tell you that I didn't want to see you eating food in this classroom?" Ms. Jefferson scowled. Yvonne, her face blank and innocent, replied, "I thought chocolate cookies weren't allowed. You told me that chocolate cookies weren't allowed. I'm sure you did. So I'm eating an oatmeal cookie." That caused the class to roar in laughter. I couldn't help it, so I roared with the crowd. Vociferous praise followed like a noisy wave. Yvonne was as untameable as flies. I loved her for that. Everyone loved her for that. But I didn't want that. I wanted me to be her only friend, only did heavens know why.

"Well, then, you are not allowed to eat_ any_ food in this classroom from this day on," said Ms. Jefferson, exasperated. "Okay," she said, putting her cookie neatly in its plastic bag just as she had done before, letting everyone realize that she wasn't easily crushed. Everyone admired her cheery, bright personality. But at the same time, everyone noticed the blind rage like fire sweeping over the teacher. A confused and scared mass of impressions, like an old rubbish-heap, followed. Then I started to wonder. Was Yvonne doing the right thing, even though she was popular? Maybe. Did I really want Yvonne all to myself? Yes. Is that possible? No. Was it okay for her to be liked by many, not only by me? Probably. Can I, an ordinary unpopular girl, make friends with outgoing, popular Yvonne Wilson and some other kids like Emily and Cynthia and others? I don't know. It was hard. The past memories of my lousy friendships were like a book that rends and tears like a broken saw. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how to think. These questions were harder than some math problems I've had troubles with in the past. These questions were unavoidable.

All this time I've been wondering, everyone has finished writing their journals. Today was a free-write section, so everyone was writing away happily, drowned in their own thoughts and ideas. I stared blankly into my white, untouched paper, knowing not what to say when it was my turn to present. Hurried, I scribbled something random. A really short poem. Whatever.

Jamie presented her poem about ponies. "Very nice," Ms. Jefferson complimented. Everyone's composition was followed by Ms. Jefferson's compliments, which most likely was "Very nice." Then it was Yvonne's turn. She glanced and smiled at me. A glance that flitted like a bird. It was just so happy that Yvonne actually turned and smiled at me, as if she was going to be my friend. She walked up to the front with her journal, and stood there, rocking back and forth on her unstable feet. She spoke.

"My appreciation for food has been long discouraged. 'Why do you care about food so much? Are you trying to mock us, because you are lanky and we are obese?' the fat kids threatened. 'You have plenty of it, so why appreciate it so much?' my parents inquired. The truth is I never tried to mock anyone or lead any big discussions about this issue.

"I like food because of its amazing flavor. Just like how each one of us has our own unique personality, every different kind of food has its own flavor. And I find that oddly interesting. And also, I think the sensation of chewing and swishing the food around in your mouth is pretty refreshing, and it's really cool, tasting it fully.

"I love eating bananas. I love it when I'm in a tent set up somewhere in the middle of the infinite grassy rolling plains, staring up into the cluster of stars hanging like fruit in the tree, while devouring a banana. The banana flavor in a banana makes the banana so unique and scrumptious. Bananas-"

She stopped right there. Her right foot slid unnaturally under her left foot, and there was a loud _crack_, of her ankle bones breaking. Ms. Jefferson helped Yvonne to her foot again, but she collapsed helplessly again, like a rag doll. Everyone rushed to the front. I took her pulse. No pulse. Yvonne has left this world. John, or Jacob, or James, whatever, rushed to get the school nurse.

The school nurse examined Yvonne and said, "The girl suffered from a heart attack. Of course it had frightened her when she suddenly slipped and fell. Poor thing, that girl was." As soon as the nurse finished speaking, Ms. Jefferson scooped up Yvonne's composition, finished reading it, suppressed a smile, and wept. As soon as the nurse finished speaking, everyone mourned and wept for Yvonne, a sight so sad, a sight so uncommon.

Yvonne's funeral was planned, and everyone from our class was invited, despite the fact that we only got to know her for a morning. Yvonne was a rare gift to everyone. She had showed something so incredible, something that could not be defined to this class. Was it confidence? Was it her appreciation for food? There was no definite answer. Was it friendship? Was it death and dying? Was it toughness under disabilities?

Then I realized the gift she has brought to me. She has taught me in an indirect way that friendship wasn't owning a friend. Instead, it was being friends with everyone. Together. Another lesson she taught me was that friendship was also trying to make friends even when you didn't have any. I think I know the answers to those questions now. Did I really want Yvonne all to myself? Before, yes. Now, no, but it isn't possible anyway, since she's passed away. Is that possible? No. Is it okay for her to be liked by many, not only by me? Yes Can I, an ordinary unpopular girl, make friends with outgoing, popular Yvonne and some other kids like Emily and Cynthia and others? Yes. The answer to the last question, of course, was the greatest gift of all. It has inspired me to make many more friends without hesitating or being worried. Thank you, Yvonne… But why did you leave this world?

And of course, Ms. Jefferson was entrusted with Yvonne's creative writing journal. I have asked her countless times together with my new friends what was the rest of the story, but each times she would smile understandingly and say it's not time to reveal yet. But I think Yvonne Wilson was someone who really turned my life 180 degrees around, from depressed to majestically happy. Thank you again, Yvonne.

30 YEARS LATER (NARRATOR NARRATING)

Ms. Jefferson was looking through her old student files from when she taught 5th grade. She stopped at the name 'Yvonne Wilson'. Instinctively, her hand reached into the file and pulled out the dead girl's composition journal and read the second half of her journal out loud with mixed feelings.

"-are awesome.

"However, Ms. Jefferson had forbidden me of eating any food in this classroom, which is such a shame. I would have liked to eat a banana in this classroom. I was going to try it tomorrow, but now it's forbidden. I will eat a banana and my leftover cookies at home, though. I know I will.

"Tomorrow will be a fun day, I think. Since no food is ever allowed in this classroom, I will bring a banana smoothie. Even though I'm not tasting it under a blanket of stars, I'm sure I would enjoy drinking a banana smoothie. A banana smoothie, I guarantee, is not food. It's a drink. A spectacular drink, too."

Old Ms. Jefferson didn't suppress a smile. She smiled without hesitating. She liked this girl, and she regretted being a teacher to her. What if she had forgotten her teacher-like ways and had been a friend-like teacher for the children? Would her memories with Yvonne and the other kids be more joyful and meaningful? She really didn't know. It was no use now, though. So as a last tribute to Yvonne Wilson, Ms. Jefferson took one of those rare trips out of her apartment building and to the nearby café and ordered a banana smoothie. She drank to Yvonne. And she enjoyed it very much, just as much as Yvonne would have.

THE END


End file.
